


The Universe Is Made of Tiny Stories

by BladedFeather



Series: Fatalism [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Gore, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4628442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BladedFeather/pseuds/BladedFeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve’s apartment wasn’t vast or expensive really, but it had some nice touches. One of which Bucky loved, and he was curled up on the little window nook, the sun warming the glass against his skin. It was his favorite spot in the place, quieted his nerves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Synodic

**Author's Note:**

> Right after I got finished writing the last part of this series (Which you don't have to read to read this), I was sort of stuck debating how to go forward with this. I ultimately decided that it's going to be broken into little ficlets. The story will progress over five or so of these little snippets and depending on where that leaves things I'll jump into another full length fic. (I love this little universe. I love these two ancient boyfriends.) Throughout this will be me winging Civil War, and internally crying about Bucky Barnes and what may or may not happen in the movie. Thank you so much to everyone that's joined me in my little bubble of denial. You're all my absolute favorite people.

The street below was a chaotic mess, but it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for New York. The city was cram packed full of people and culture, practically bursting at the seams. There would always be a part of Bucky that saw all of the people and analyzed the threat they posed. Always searching the surroundings for potential enemy positions. The Soldier had not disappeared when he’d…become Bucky Barnes again, it had simply receded. So Bucky had learned to cope, and continued to as he stared at the street from Steve’s (Steve was constantly saying it was _theirs_ but he was also footing the _entire_ bill) apartment window. Tried to appreciate the grace of a street performer as she twirled flaming torches, worked to accept that the Soldier would always see those torches as potential weapons.

It was surreal to Bucky at times. That this life could even exist, and the fear that it was all in his head, just a dream, was ever present in his nightmares. Sometimes Bucky would have irrational bouts of panic, unable to control his breathing, all reason seeming to fly out of the window. It would take him hours after to really accept that this was real, that he wasn’t in an ice induced sleep. It infuriated Bucky because as soon as he came back to himself it always occurred to him that he had _never_ dreamed while frozen. Ever. The realization made him feel weak and small every single time. Ashamed deep down that he’d let it get the better of him.

All of that seems far away though. Despite the mess in his head Bucky was _comfortable_ , at peace in a way he hadn't been for years. Steve’s apartment wasn’t vast or expensive really, but it had some nice touches. One of which Bucky loved, and he was curled up on the little window nook, the sun warming the glass against his skin. It was his favorite spot in the place, quieted his nerves.

Bucky hears Steve the moment he opens the door to the lobby of their building. This particular part of himself Bucky couldn’t decide what was responsible. On the one hand, Bucky’s training made him acutely aware of all of his surroundings. Though it seemed as if he was tuned into Steve on a higher level, could always tell where he was. Bucky leaned more toward the latter, because if there was one thing Bucky knew about himself it was that he had _always_ loved Steve, and more to the point, had _always_ had to track him down and save his punk ass.

The not-so-little-anymore-punk shouldered his way through the door, outshining the sun with the smile he gives at seeing Bucky there. Bucky ignores the burn of shame in his stomach as he remembers when he _hadn’t_ been there when Steve got back. Those first few months had been…hectic.

Steve pulled Bucky from his thoughts as he set his shield by the door, sighing heavily. Before Bucky gets the chance to ask what’s wrong, Steve’s face twists with concern,

“Buck, is it too cold in here?” The genuine distress in Steve’s voice would’ve been utterly absurd to an outside listener, but they’d both had their fair share of the cold, for a few lifetimes, at least. Not to mention that the cold used to trigger…volatile reactions from Bucky.

Although Bucky is confused, because he’s sitting by a window in the sunlight, and what would give Steve the impression that he’s….

“Oh. No. I just…” Bucky trails off, biting the inside of his cheek. Even though it’s embarrassing and he sort of wants it to go away, Bucky still counts the blush he can feel a tiny miracle. The feeling of reverence at the expression of emotion fades almost immediately when it gets _worse_.

“You know, you _could_ just go shopping with me. Get you a sweater your own size.” Granted, Bucky wasn’t much smaller than Steve, but the sweater was still a little baggy, and Bucky just grunted in response; and with great willpower ignored the shit eating grin on Steve’s face.

“I _like_ wearing _your_ sweaters okay?” Bucky has to roll his eyes at the unbelievably sappy look on Steve’s face, it was ridiculous really (Steve gets the same look from Bucky, on a near daily basis). So he just shifted, pulled at the floppy ends of his sleeves, and did no such thing as pouting.

Steve laughed at him, but he wore a smile on his face all the way until a few hours later, when Bucky asks him about his day. Gradually the smile slipped from his face, the same exhaustion from earlier creeping into his posture. Bucky leaned back against the couch when he got a head on his shoulder, biting his tongue about reminding Steve which arm it was. Steve _hated_ when he did that.

“Stark asked us to come back to the Tower. Again.” Bucky stills. It had been a while since everything had gone down with Stark, and things were still tense. Tony had apologized, sincerely apologized, and Bucky had gleaned that it was something that rarely happened. Bucky hadn’t been there, but apparently Steve had given Tony, (courtesy of Clint) ‘The calmest expression I’ve ever seen. It was…terrifying,’ and then told Stark that he could keep his worthless apology. It had been a very dark time for basically everyone involved.

While tense, things were better, and Tony was trying to make his way into Steve’s good graces again. Bucky had to give it to Stark, he fucked up, but when he did, he owned it…after he got done being an egotistical douchebag and stepped away enough to realize his mistakes.

Despite all of the things that had transpired, it was evident to Bucky that Steve missed his friends. Steve was a people person, even if he didn’t seem like it. Though he also jumped to the worst possible conclusions at times, and Bucky’s sudden stillness was immediately perceived as anger or perhaps even fear. To be fair, either would be reasonable with everything that had happened.

“I don’t know why he keeps asking after what happened, like it’ll make everything okay again, after what he did to you and…” Steve trails off when Bucky wordlessly puts a hand on the back of Steve’s neck, slowly guiding his head back to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. A grin tugged at Bucky’s mouth when he kissed the crown of Steve’s head,

“He keeps asking because he’s trying to make amends…and because it doesn’t take a genius to realize that you liked it there.” Steve huffed and burrowed farther into Bucky’s side, moving his head to Bucky’s chest.

“I thought you liked it here.” The attempt was weak, and Bucky knows that Steve was trying to tell him that the reason he was so conflicted about it all was mostly because of his worry over Bucky’s well being. Rolling his eyes Bucky pulled a fleece blanket from the back of the couch, their favorite blanket (it was decorated with snowflakes, also it was quite possibly the softest thing in the universe) and tucked it around them.

“I like it wherever _you_ are. You should know that by now. Plus Stark won’t try anything again, not only would _I_ punch him in the dick, I’m pretty sure Natasha actually would assassinate him.” Bucky was surprised at how glib his own tone was, and found that he actually felt that way. What went down was bad, but Tony had paid for it enough.

“Besides, I’m getting rusty, and saving the world seems like it’ll be a good workout.” It was the first time Bucky had brought up wanting to go on missions since before the Stark Incident, and Steve looked up at him with wide eyes. Steve doesn’t ask if he’s sure, knew he wouldn’t have said anything if he wasn’t.

“I guess we should pack.” They don’t have much, but what little they did have had been spread out while they had lived in the apartment, Steve groans at the idea, his head falling back to Bucky’s chest. “’M staying here. Pack later.”

Bucky tightened his arm around the blonde, moving until they were stretched out along the couch. “That’s a plan I can get behind.”

Long after Steve had fallen asleep Bucky stayed awake, still wary about leaving him unguarded. Even with all of his training, Steve could sleep like the dead if he knew he was safe with someone watching his back, (Bucky reminds him they’re never truly safe every single time.) and so Bucky gently turned over his hand from where it was laying on his chest. The star was something that had taken him a long time to remember, apparently his handlers had wanted to ensure he wouldn’t. Though slowly he had, and every time he saw the star on Steve’s wrist, blazing bright red, marking him as the other part of Bucky’s soul, he was awestruck at his luck. Every time he traced the outline with his fingertip, his lips, it was another step toward reclaiming it, erasing the evil it had been used for. Another step to seeing the star on his shoulder and not flinching. They were trying to move forward in time for once. Both of them had stood still for far too long. Together they were going to move forward, whatever that would mean. Together they were going to try and move on from the terrible things life had done to them, even if it was hard to put aside what had happened a few months ago...


	2. Sleepwalking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything good, everything pure about Bucky's universe, was corrupted to the core. How much pain can one man take before he simply ceases to be? Staring into Steve's hard blue eyes, Bucky knew he would soon find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I am so sorry.  
> 2\. Warnings: This chapter deals a lot in gore and extremely negative thoughts. 
> 
> Next up: Civil War.
> 
> (Comments, Kudos, etc are always so greatly appreciated, thank you!)

The apartment, when Bucky wakes up, is still dark. Granted, Bucky was used to waking up from nightmares in the early morning. Although this time what had actually woken him up was a shift in the air. It was the only way to describe it, but instinctively, Bucky knew they were no longer alone. The moment Bucky jumps out of bed, Steve is up and reaching for his shield. While the intrusion may not have woken him up, there was no such thing as sleepy confusion once Steve _was_ awake.

Assailants descend on them immediately, some crashing through the window, others piling through the door. Bucky may have only been armed with a knife, but the enemy was still no match for him. Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky could see Steve’s opponents didn’t fare any better. The only problem was that they seemed endless, and things got messy in the crowded space quickly. Steve's guard drops for half a second, but it’s a second long enough for something to get him in the arm. Bucky’s heart stills when Steve simply drops, body going limp. 

Despite the way he tears through them to get to Steve, stands over him and _snarls_ at the endless tide of black masked enemies, his anger isn’t enough. Without Steve it’s an endless amount of enemies against just him, and even The Winter Soldier can’t fight forever; and with a sharp prick to his side his eyes roll up and the world fades away.

*  
The first thing Bucky can see when he wakes up, is blood. The floor is practically covered in it, some of it fresh, some old and flaky. The smell of it hits next, and it’s so strong he has to fight the urge to gag. The room is barely lit, the bare bulb looking almost burnt out. Dismal lighting casts the grey walls in horrible shadows, leaving some corners in complete darkness. Bucky has a horrible feeling he knows where he is. 

When Bucky tries to push himself up, he’s horrified to realize something’s missing. The metal arm is gone, not just removed, but completely severed from his body. Every trace of it seems to have been brutally cut out, leaving a grotesque wound that bleeds sluggishly, but steadily. The blood on the floor is _his_. Bucky wants to scream at the pain, but can’t, knows better. It’s _weakness_ to express pain. So he just bites his lip, wonders how much blood he has left before he bleeds out. 

Everything inside of Bucky hurts, the emotions he had recently recovered frantic at the utter terror he feels. While he was the Soldier Bucky hadn’t had to worry about fear. Now though, the fear is very real, and leaves his hand trembling violently until it’s dug into the material of his pants. 

It’s an endless wait for something to happen, either death or torture. When Bucky hears screaming, he knows that death won’t be kind enough to visit. The sound reaches inside of him, makes something twist and break immediately. It’s Steve. Steve is screaming, and it chills Bucky’s blood and makes him instantly ill.

When Bucky tries to get up his legs give out and he ends up crawling to the door. Using all of his strength, Bucky slams his fist against it, yelling,

“Steve! Steve…! Let me the fuck out! Steve!” The only response to his weak calls is more screaming. Bucky pounds his fist against the door, desperation taking over as he yells and yells, and gets nothing and nowhere. Bucky slumps against the door, tears making tracks through the dirt and blood on his face. 

“Ah. Mr. Barnes so good of you to join us.” The spiral of terror Bucky falls into at that voice has him flinching violently against the door, looking around wildly.

“No. No…- you’re dead. Steve told me. _You’re dead_.” The laugh he gets in response is the same as he remembers, delighted and utterly malicious,

“Your Captain _lied_ to you. I have never been more alive.” There are too many terrible things in Bucky’s head at once and he sort of shatters, the only thing he can cling to is the resolute fact that Steve would _never_ lie to him. The screaming stops abruptly, and Bucky panics.

“Where is he? What are you doing to him? _Please. Please don’t hurt him. I’ll do anything you want._ ” Bucky is begging, head tipped onto the tile floor and scraping his throat raw with the force of holding back his sobs. Steve has to be okay, he’s everything good. He’s _everything_. Zola simply chuckles again, tsking slightly.

“It seems it was too much for your dear Captain, I had thought he would’ve been harder to break, a pity.” The sentence reverberates in his skull long after Zola stops talking. Bucky huddles against the wall, wondering how this happened, why this happened. Every fiber of his being weeps for Steve. Zola comments offhandedly every now and then, but Bucky simply stares into space, wishing over and over again to _die_. If there was a God then he would be merciful enough to allow him this. Allow him to finally die, after all of these years. It blurs together until Zola’s voice becomes particularly loud, his laughter crawling up Bucky’s spine.

“We have a few unwanted guests. It should be an easy task for our Soldier.” Closing his eyes Bucky gathers the rest of his courage, and makes his choice.

“ _I will fuckin’ die_ before I do anything for you.” While his voice is merely a raw whisper Bucky will do everything in his power to ensure it’s true. With a click the door opens impossibly wide, and Bucky fears for a second being sucked out into the void. The space outside is utterly black, and with a sudden rush of movement a blur of red lands with a thump. Bucky backs up until there’s no room left as Natasha’s vacant and lifeless eyes stare up at him from the floor. A single smoldering hole in her forehead. 

“The Winter Soldier, as he was always intended.” Zola whispers in awed reverence. From the black doorway Bucky watches as a figure seems to detach themselves from the very shadows. Steve stares at him, his blue eyes hard and emotionless, raises his gun. 

Bucky watches as he pulls the trigger.

*

“Bucky! Wake up!” The sound of Steve’s voice is terrifying and the best thing in the world as Bucky thrashes awake. Unfortunately the dream hasn’t started fading yet, and he ends up with his hands clamping around Steve’s wrists, metal fingers digging into the floor beneath. Despite his violent reaction Steve looks up at him with nothing but love and trust. 

“Bucky you’re safe. It’s okay. We’re safe. I’m right here.” Slowly the details of his nightmare scatter into the dark recesses of his mind, Bucky’s hold loosens instantly, and he very nearly collapses on Steve’s chest. Bucky clutches the front of Steve’s shirt as strong arms very gently wrap around him, holding him together as Bucky tries not to fly apart. 

“I got you Buck. I got you.” The tears when they come, are from both of them as they lay curled on the floor together. Bucky can’t shake the fear from his mind, and it was going to be a bad day, they could both tell. 

Slowly, Steve helps him get up, and then buries both of them in every blanket in the house, curled in a little nest on the bed. Steve doesn’t protest when Bucky insists on being the big spoon, just tucks himself under Bucky’s chin. Bucky doesn’t sleep again, simply keeps his arms locked protectively around Steve, watching.

Every time some vestige of the dream tries to worm its way into his mind Bucky searches Steve’s face and when he finds no evidence of torture, of The Chair, it settles him. 

Throughout the day Steve stays within arm’s reach. Shoves warms drinks in Bucky’s hands, and softly tells him stories about when they were kids. Bucky even remembers some. It’s how they cope, how they survive the world honestly. Sometimes it’s Bucky who has to wrestle Steve out of a nightmare, cuddle him close for the day or so after. No matter what though, they take care of each other. 

At the end of every day, good or bad, they both hold each other tight and whisper, “I love you.” 

The day may never come when they could both sleep through the night, but it was part of their life now, and they had survived though a World War, Brainwashing, Betrayal, and a nearly devastating fight with a friend. Hell or high water, they were gonna make it to the end of the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am an unbelievable softie, it's unreal. Seriously considering a spin-off where it....isn't a dream. Anyway thank you so much for reading! Next chapter? The Stark Incident, which will be considerably longer, quite possibly the longest chapter.


End file.
